


A Matter of Retreat

by laetificat



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 02:45:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laetificat/pseuds/laetificat
Summary: A fill for theRDR kink meme: Micah/Dutch orgasm denial (Dutch domming).Major game spoilers!





	A Matter of Retreat

The cabin was bitterly cold, the wind somehow finding every crack and gap to whistle through. Smoke from the small fire crept out of the poorly built chimney and pooled in the rafters. Water dripped from every surface, alternately melting and freezing, leaving an oily frost on their blankets in the mornings. It was a miserable place to spend any time in.

Still, as Micah pointed out at every available opportunity, it was better than getting them both a face full of lead at the hands of those lawmen. And their men would protect them, facing off threats like a pack of starving wolves, mean and skinny and eager for blood. Up on the mountain they were safe, for now, until they got a score big enough to leave. They just had to wait. And have faith.

Dutch was beginning to tire of the sound of his own words being repeated back to him. Thankfully, there were a still few ways he knew of to shut Micah up.

Mostly.

“Do you remember our agreement, Mister Bell?” Dutch purred, squeezing his hand a fraction, enjoying the feel of Micah's rigidly hard cock through the rough homespun of his trousers. Micah groaned. He was pinned against the wall like a cornered animal, brought to bay by Dutch. 

“I remember,” he managed eventually. Dutch nodded, slowly rubbing his palm up and down Micah's erection. Micah made a noise like a wounded thing, grinding helplessly against Dutch's hand.

“Fuck,” he moaned, his hands gripping the boards of the wall, “please, Dutch. Just do it right here, please, I need it, c'mon Dutch.” 

Dutch squeezed again, relentless. He leaned forward, his free hand spread over the wall beside Micah's head.

“See, the thing is,” Dutch continued, pitching his voice low so Micah had to strain to hear it, “I seem to remember our agreement was for you to stop begging me like a goddamn whimpering pup, Micah. You know how I hate to see that.” He emphasised this last by shifting his hand lower and taking hold of Micah's balls. Micah made a thin strangled sound, his eyes very wide. Sweat beaded his brow despite the cloud of steam that accompanied his every breath.

“I know, I know, I just -- I can't help it. Please, ah, Christ,” Micah moaned, Dutch having moved his hand up and begun rubbing him again, knowing full well how much it must hurt through the layers of rough fabric. Micah rolled his hips against Dutch's hand, reaching up to grab handfuls of his coat. Dutch allowed him to do so, inhaling the desperate scent rising from him, old sweat and damp leather and gun oil.

“Don't you dare come, Micah Bell,” he snarled, his lips grazing Micah's ear. Micah growled, huffing out shallow breaths, his fingers clenched in the wolverine fur lining Dutch's lapels. Then he shuddered and let out a whining sigh, his hips jerking once, twice. 

Micah subsided, dropping his head to rest on Dutch's shoulder, breathing hard. Dutch removed his hand from Micah's crotch, with not a little regret. His own cock throbbed, aching for a similar release. He pushed the feeling aside.

“Shit,” Micah whispered, letting go of Dutch's coat, “I'm sorry, Dutch.” 

Dutch stepped back a pace, forcing Micah to catch himself on the edge of the bunk bed or fall over. Straightening his clothes, he looked the man up and down, finally meeting those wolfish eyes.

“Good,” Dutch replied, turning to leave.

He stepped out into the freezing wind and snow with Micah's gaze hot on the back of his neck. It made him smile. Maybe this little deviation in their plans wouldn't be so miserable, after all.


End file.
